“I hate to say it, kid, but I don’t have a good answer for you. You’re just going to have to go with your gut on this one.”
“That’s such bullshit. You’re a mom, you’re supposed to know everything.”
“I do know everything, except when it comes to men. Don’t know if you noticed, but your sperm donor ditched me almost immediately after he left his deposit, and there wasn’t exactly a parade of potential boyfriends marching around our lives for the past thirty-one years.”
“Damn it. Couldn’t you have been more of a slut? If you had had a parade of men around the past thirty-one years, then maybe one of us would know what the hell we’re doing.”
We laugh and after Mom catches me up on the gossip from her book club, we say our goodbyes and I toss together a quick chicken and veggies dish since I never got around to eating my waffle earlier.
After I’ve eaten and crawled into bed, I try my best to clear my head so that I can get a good night’s sleep and give some serious thought to this whole Alex situation. Unfortunately, the second his name crosses my mind, I can’t stop thinking about hisamber eyes and the smell of his skin, or the way his lips felt against my ear when he told me that hethinksabout me.
And now my cock is hard again, trapped behind the elastic waistband of my shorts, begging for me to reach down and show it some love.
I shouldn’t, though. I should leave my dick alone and go to sleep. I’ve been so good lately. That’s not to say I haven’t jerked off, but when I have, I’ve been able to force some separation between fantasy and real life. The images in my head while I’ve gotten off have all been vague, faceless nobodies running their hands over me and making me squirm with pleasure. They have to be, because if I were to give my fantasies a face, they’d be Alex. Every single one of them.
I don’t know if I have the strength to not think about him tonight. But I also don’t know if I have the strength to ignore the pounding of my heart or the arousal coursing through my veins.
“Fuck it,” I mutter, shucking my shorts down before reaching over to my bedside table for the lube I might not even need if the way my cock is leaking on my stomach says anything.
I pop the cap anyway, hissing when the cool liquid dribbles against my burning hot skin, and then take myself in hand. The relief is immediate, pleasurespiking through me as I slowly drag my fist up, spreading the lube all over my cock and teasing the head with my thumb. I shudder, closing my eyes and giving in to following my imagination where it wants to take me.
Alex, his face nuzzled into my neck, his breath ghosting across my skin. Only this time, we’re not in a run-down diner surrounded by elderly patrons. We’re here in my room, the lights dim and our shirts nowhere to be found. My hands run over the hard planes of his body and he nibbles the sensitive spot where my shoulder meets my neck.
I jerk myself a little harder, a little faster as I imagine Alex pressing his groin against mine, our cocks rutting against each other through our underwear. He pulls away from my neck, looking up at me with lust-drunk eyes and lips swollen and red from my kisses. I press forward, grinding against him as I walk us towards the bed. Our underwear is gone, and when I crawl on top of him, his cock is thick and hard, leaking and begging for my mouth.
My free hand slips behind my balls while I continue to fuck my fist with the other, eyes squeezed shut as the fantasy plays out in my mind. Imaginary Alex begs so sweetly for me to suck him while real life me presses lightly against the space between my balls and my rim, lighting up my prostate andsending me over the edge. I suck in a gasping breath as my cock jerks in my hand, spurting rope after rope of hot cum all over my stomach. My chest tightens, my legs shake, and imaginary Alex blows his load down my throat while I stroke myself through my release, shuddering from the intensity of the pleasure.
When the orgasm subsides and I return to Earth, I feel only slightly better. My balls are empty, my dick is sated, but my heart isn’t. I quickly clean up before crawling back into my bed, and I know that if I cross the line with Alex, I won’t be able to go back to being just friends with him. If I get my hands on him, I’m never going to want to let him go.
I also know that I don’t have the strength to stop myself if he offers himself up to me again. My only hope now is that Alex is the one to change his mind before Sunday, because I know for a fact that I won’t be able to resist him any longer.
And even though I told him I needed time to think things over and we’d talk after my game, I can’t stop myself from sending a text before the puck drops in Tampa.
{ Elliot: Good luck today, Goat. XOXO
Alex: XOXO to you too El <3 }
14
HE'S NOT A PUCK BUNNY, YOU CROTCHETY OLD BITCH
Alex
Despite the thunderstorms in my heart and the tornadoes in my brain, as soon as I put my pads on and gave Franny a little rub for good luck, I managed to shift into full-on hockey mode.
I came into tonight’s game ready to annihilate the Tampa Stingrays and bring another win home to San Francisco. They’re a good enough team, but I’ve always been confident in the Thunder’s ability to take down our adversaries. But Tampa came prepared, and they’re putting up a good fight. Even so, I’m not worried. As nice as it is to take home an easy win, a hard won victory tastes that much sweeter.
Plus, I might be peacocking out here, just a little bit. Hoping that Elliot is back in San Francisco watching me play, I want to put on my best performance. I’ve been showing off all night, diving to make saves, doing the splits, showing off my ability and flexibility. This is the best I’ve played in a long time, and it’s all for him. I want him to see that I’m good, that I’m capable, that I’m worthy of taking a chance on.
I don’t even let it get me down when their center manages to sink one in over my shoulder in the third period. It should have been an easy save, and any other day, I might be kicking myself over something like that. But it doesn’t matter today. The goal is too little, too late, and we walk off the ice with a 2-1 win. I get called in for press, which some guys hate but I don’t mind. Most of the reporters are pretty chill, and Coach does a good job of cutting off the ones who try to take the focus away from the game. I take a quick rinse off shower and change into a t-shirt and joggers, throwing a backwards hat on my head to tamp down my messy, wet hair. With Franny strapped to my waist, I follow the PR team into the press room and sit down in front of a microphone with Miles and Syd.
The reporters lob a few standard questions, andthe three of us take turns answering with practiced patience and neutrality?—
“The switch to zone defense in the third period was necessary to keep the lines fresh. Everyone is tired by the end, but we do what we need to bring it home.”
“Tampa’s a great team, they played their hearts out tonight and so did we. In the end it came down to whose shots met the net the most, and that was us.”
“We don’t like to think of anything as a streak. The games we’ve played are behind us already. We won tonight, but our focus is already on the next game, the next team.”
